Holidays
by Paper Flight
Summary: Medusa peered into the depths of the crystal ball, then looked up at Soul. "What you seek for…is in Pakistan." Soul's quest to find the perfect Christmas gift for Maka takes him a little farther from Death City than he expected.


**Holidays**

**A/N: **Although this story takes place while Medusa is still in Rachel's body, Stein is not struggling with his madness. Because of…uhh…Christmas Spirit! Yeah. The spirit of Christmas is able to temporarily block out madness, let's go with that.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Soul Eater.

* * *

On December 22, a panicked Soul leapt from his bed. It was just three days before Christmas, and he _still _hadn't gotten anything for Maka. Her present for him was wrapped neatly and placed underneath the small tree they'd illegally cut down from a nearby park. Soul winced at the memory; it had taken several days for the sticky resin left by the pine tree to wash off from his blade.

Anxious, he sat on the edge of his bed, thinking hard. He had no idea what kind of stuff girls liked. Maybe jewelry, or clothes, but Maka didn't usually wear jewelry and Soul didn't know anything about clothes. He had a limited wardrobe, and those were clothes that Maka had picked out for him. Suddenly, inspiration struck him. Who better to ask for advice on a girl than another girl?

Soul found Blair in Maka's room. Maka had run over to the supermarket to pick up a few groceries for dinner – "But it's still your turn to cook!" she'd insisted. The cat witch was sprawled on Maka's bed, wearing nothing but a lacy lingerie and reading a porn magazine.

The inevitable trickle of blood began leaking from his nose. Mustering up all of his man strength, he pinched the bridge of his nose tightly and walked up to the cat.

"Uh, Blair? Can I ask you something?" His voice came out nasally as he struggled valiantly with Herculean effort to hold back the stream of blood that was threatening to overflow from his nose. She looked up at him and smiled. Immediately, she sat up and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and giving Soul a clear view of her cleavage. He shut his eyes tightly.

"Nya? Anything for you, Soul-kun," she purred seductively, winking one amber eye.

"I need to get a Christmas present for Maka, but I don't know what to get." She let out a little mewl of surprise.

"Oh, you should have come to me right away! Blair has the _perfect _thing for Maka-chan!" Soul breathed out a sigh of relief. She walked over and rummaged through a small, hidden drawer of Maka's closet. "No, not this one, too plain," she murmured to herself. "Not this one either."

Eventually, he heard her exclaim "Aha!" She turned around and held up two objects in her hand. It was…more lingerie. At least, that's what he thought it was. If he squinted his eyes, it just looked like a pile of skimpy black lace.

He tried to picture Maka wearing something like that. It was impossible.

Blair smiled at him expectantly. "What do you think, Soul-kun? Maka-chan will look…quite ravishing, don't you think?" He blushed unintentionally. "Here, take them," she insisted. "Blair has plenty more from where those came from!"

"Ah…okay," he said, and reluctantly reached out with his hand to take the lingerie. Immediately, a river of blood gushed from his nose and splattered on the floor. _"Shit," _he swore out loud. Wrong hand.

After wiping up the puddle of blood in Maka's room, Soul decided to try asking Tsubaki next. He suspected that her idea might be a little more reasonable. Bundling up with his black jacket and a scarf Maka had given him, he walked over to Black*Star's apartment. He was about to turn the corner when he heard someone shout behind him.

"GYAHAHA! SOUL! PREPARE TO FEEL THE PAIN OF MY SNOWBALL! YOU'LL NEVER EXPECT – nuts." Soul whipped around to see Black*Star posed with one foot in the air aiming a snowball at him. Immediately, he ducked, just in time as the snowball whizzed above his head.

"I won't miss next time!" Black*Star shouted. He quickly scooped up another handful of snow and packed it, aiming once again. Soul darted in, turning his arm into a deadly blade of metal and swung it at Black*Star's head, who sneered and ducked the blade easily.

The two continued their fierce battle until both were panting and out of breath. They circled each other, eyeing the other warily. Then they both ran forward and slapped each other high fives.

"That was the awesome!" cheered Black*Star enthusiastically. Then he paused and scratched his head. "Why are you here anyways? I broke my Xbox again, so we can't play Assassin's Creed."

"Actually, I was on my way to see Tsubaki," Soul replied. "Speaking of which, what did you get her for Christmas?" he asked curiously.

"Eh? I got her some soap."

"Soap? What kind of present is that?" Soul asked incredulously. He knew he was _not _getting Maka soap for Christmas. He didn't want her to think that he was sending her some subtle message about her body odor. Soul thought that Maka smelled fine the way she was. Actually, he really liked the way she smelled.

"It's _nice_ soap," said Black*Star defensively. "It's all fragranced and everything. Cause, you know, she's always taking baths and stuff."

"No, I _don't_ know," retorted Soul. "What, do you spy on her when she takes a bath or something?" Maka would kill him if she caught him spying on her.

Black*Star didn't say anything.

By this time, they'd reached the small complex where Black*Star and Tsubaki lived. Black*Star opened the door and walked inside, motioning for Soul to follow. Tsubaki was making dinner for the two in the kitchen. When she saw Soul, she waved cheerily.

"Soul! How are you?" He waved back and jammed his hands in his pockets.

"Tsubaki," he began uncomfortably. "I don't really know what to get Maka for Christmas. Do you have any ideas?" Behind him, he heard Black*Star snort and mutter something about 'soap' and 'good quality'. He ignored it.

Tsubaki looked at him seriously. "You should know best what to get her, Soul. After all, you're her weapon partner."

"Yeah, yeah!" jeered Black*Star. Soul turned and glared at him. Then he looked back at Tsubaki.

"I know," he said, "it's just that this year, I really have no idea what to get."

She smiled at him. "Look, Soul, what does Maka love? Think about all the things she likes. That should help."

Soul found this little tidbit of information incredibly unhelpful, but he nodded all the same.

"Thanks, Tsubaki." He turned to leave.

"Hey, Soul! Anytime you wanna have a rematch is fine with me!" said Black*Star. Soul gave him a thumbs up and walked out the door.

Soul trudged through the snow, no better off from where he'd begun. "What does Maka love? What kind of advice is that?" he grumbled. _What does Maka love…?_

Suddenly, his eyes grew wide.

_I know…_

He flung open the front door, gasping for breath. "Blair," he wheezed, "is Maka here yet?"

"I'm over here," a voice called, and he walked in to see Maka dump a bag of groceries on the table. Her emerald eyes were bright and her cheeks were red from the cold. She removed her mittens, earmuffs, and coat. "What's up?"

Soul ran over, excited about his inspiration. "Hey, can you tell me –" Suddenly, he paused. If he asked Maka, it would give away the surprise. " – what's for dinner?" he finished lamely.

Maka crossed her arms and lifted an eyebrow, giving him an appraising glance.

"I wouldn't know; it's your turn to cook dinner tonight. But personally, I wouldn't mind having lasagna."

Soul sighed.

* * *

The next day, he woke up and jumped out of bed. He found Maka already up and reading a book on the couch. Blair was curled beside her and she was absentmindedly scratching the cat behind her ears.

"Maka, I'm going to Stein's house," he called over his shoulder.

She gaped at him. "_Stein_? Why? Are you going to give him a present or what?" But he left without answering, leaving a dumbfounded Maka behind him.

He walked somewhat reluctantly up the path to Stein's house. He didn't have good memories of this place. The first time they'd been here, he was sure Maka was going to die. But it'd also been the place where they'd first successfully pulled off a Witch Hunter.

Tentatively, he knocked on the door. After a few minutes, the door opened, and a young woman with honey-blonde hair and a black eye patch peered down at him.

"Hello, Soul! Why are you here?" asked Marie.

"I was wondering if I could speak with Professor Stein," he said uncomfortably.

"Of course! Come on in – I was just making some coffee," she said, holding up a beaker of dark brown fluid. She opened the door wide. Gratefully, he stepped in, enjoying the warmth of the building. "He's right this way."

Soul followed Marie into the stitched house. They entered a large room where Stein was sitting on a spinny chair, whizzing around in circles and smoking a cigarette at the same time. He looked up as they walked in.

"Soul," he greeted. "Got anything for me to dissect?"

Soul shifted uneasily on his feet. He wasn't sure how to phrase this question and he felt awkward about asking Stein.

"Uh…I was wondering if…"

A few minutes later, Marie clapped her hands. "I think that's a lovely idea, Soul! Maka will be so happy." He let out a sigh of relief.

Stein glanced at the slouching teen before him approvingly. Only a weapon who truly knew the soul of their meister would be able to come up with a present like that. "I think it's a great idea too. But there's one problem. I don't know the location, either."

Soul looked at him, disappointed. "Do you think…" he began, a disgusted look on his face.

"No, I doubt he knows. But, I think there is someone who _does,_ or at least, will be able to find the place for us."

"Who?"

Stein smiled grimly. "Follow me. Marie, we'll be back soon. I hope."

Soul gulped.

To his surprise, Soul found Stein leading him up the front steps of Shibusen. He assumed that Stein was going to the classroom to pick up an important tool or mysterious artifact, but instead the professor led him to the dungeons underneath the school. _This is where Chrona stays,_ he thought to himself. _And – _He stopped in horror. No way. Stein glanced behind him. "What are you waiting for?" he asked.

"There's no way…you're not seriously thinking about asking…"

Stein grinned and the firelight of a nearby torch flickered on his glasses. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

* * *

The little girl crouched pitifully on the cold, wet floor of the dungeon perked up when she heard footsteps approaching her cell. An evil smile, quite contrary to her young age, stretched across her face, distorting her features. _So, _she thought maliciously, _they've finally come to a conclusion, have they?_ A snake tongue flickered out between her lips.

The door creaked open.

As she expected, Stein walked in. The little girl erased her face of the jubilance it had just worn and replaced it with a tragic look of sorrow.

"Stein," she trilled mournfully, "have you come to free me?" A single tear trickled down her face and splashed pathetically on the floor. She looked pitifully up at the man standing before her, his mind no doubt completely taken over by insanity. Stein knelt down in front of her and stretched out a trembling hand towards her face.

"M-Medusa," he whispered. She was delighted to see that his eyes were crazed and his voice was weak and hoarse. The tips of his fingers were inches away from caressing her cheek.

Then the hand dipped down and lifted up the front of her skirt.

Medusa shrieked and futilely attempted to cover herself, only to have her arms restrained by the straitjacket.

"Stein! What do you think you're doing?"

He grinned cheekily and replied in a normal voice, "Help us out…or else." He dropped the hem of her skirt and waved a finger threateningly in her face.

_I don't understand! What's going on? His mind should be shattered by the madness by now!_, thought Medusa frantically.

"Us? Who –" Only then did she notice the teenager leaning lazily against the doorway, red eyes flickering in the torchlight. He smiled widely at her, flashing all of his sharp teeth.

"Good to see you, Medusa. You're looking…young. Nice choice of underwear."

She snarled at him, and he chuckled softly to himself. Soul Eater, that was his name. Weapon partner of that annoying brat, Maka Albarn.

Absolute loathing filled her eyes, and she sneered at him, twisting her pretty face. "I don't have to help _you,_" she said, her voice sullen.

Stein leaned in close so that his face was inches away. "Actually, you do," he said lightly. "And besides, we may be able to provide some incentive."

"Oh?" she asked sweetly, and her expression immediately shifted to one of mild curiosity. "What do I get in return for my services?"

Soul laughed again, finally understanding Stein's plan. "You don't _get_ anything. This is how it works. Either you help us, or we hang you up on the front entrance of the school by your dress so that every day, all of the students and teachers can see your…ah, panties."

Medusa flushed. This was _exactly_ why she hated Shibusen so much. But there was really nothing she could do. She had to uphold her fearful image of a powerful witch. The others would never let her live it down and she'd lose all respect.

"Fine," she muttered sulkily. "What do you want me to do?"

* * *

Medusa peered into the depths of the crystal ball, then looked up at Soul. "What you seek for…is in Pakistan," she said mysteriously.

"_Pakistan? _How am I supposed to get from Death City to _Pakistan?_"

Medusa just smiled innocently and shrugged her shoulders. "How should I know? I'm a good-for-nothing witch, remember? I can't do any magic with my hands tied up like this." She sighed mournfully, then looked up with big, gold eyes at Stein. "If only my arms were freed, perhaps I could help," she pleaded.

"Forget it," said Stein, and they left the dungeon, slamming the heavy door in Medusa's scowling face.

When they reached the main floor of the school, Soul slumped dejectedly against the wall.

"What am I supposed to do? I can't drive my motorcycle over to Pakistan."

"No, you can't," agreed Stein.

"And I can't get an airplane ticket either – Shinigami-sama only issues tickets for missions."

"Nope, can't do that either."

Soul gave the professor a sideways glance, irritated. "Look, don't you have anything helpful to say?"

Stein scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Well, there's always Shinigami's mirror."

"Shinigami's mirror? What's that?"

Stein smiled, and beckoned for Soul to follow him.

* * *

"Hello, hello, hello!" chirped an enthusiastic Shinigami. "What can I do for you two today?"

Stein told Shinigami Soul's plan for Maka's Christmas present and explained the situation.

"So you see, poor Soul really has no way of reaching Pakistan in time for Christmas."

Soul scuffed his shoes on the floor awkwardly. This was much more complicated than he'd planned.

Shinigami waved his large hands around. "That's no problem! You can just use my mirror!" and gestured at the long, floor length mirror that stood in the center of the room.

Soul glanced at it. "How am I supposed to use that to get to Pakistan?"

Stein smiled. "Many things are possible when you've got a soul as strong as Shinigami-sama's. Keep this in mind, Soul. A soul's wavelength is much like a fingerprint; no two wavelengths are alike. And wherever you go, a small imprint of your wavelength is left. In Shinigami-sama's case, he can use this mirror to trace wherever his soul's been imprinted. He can't use it himself, of course, as his own soul is tied to Shibusen. But any other person…"

Realization hit Soul like a Maka Chop. "Any other person would be able to use it," he finished. "Are you saying it acts like a teleporter?"

"Exactly."

Soul looked at Shinigami. "Have you ever been to Pakistan?"

"Well, you see, it's not that easy, Soul-kun. I have been to Pakistan. Lovely country. But –"

"Then what's the problem?"

"Like I said," said Stein, "an imprint of your soul is left wherever you go. That means that the limitations of this mirror are restricted to the specific area where you walked. Pakistan is a _country,_ Soul; we don't know if Shinigami-sama traveled to the exact location given to us by Medusa."

"Are you fu –"

"Now, now, let's watch our language, please. Let me see what I can do. Coincidence is a wonderful thing, you know. And of course, I have the ability to expand the size of my soul imprint," said Shinigami happily. He walked over to the mirror and stood in front of it.

"Hmm, now let's see if I can remember what to do next…it's been so long since I did this…" He waved his hand in front of the mirror, and a fog appeared on the glass. Slowly, with a large white finger, he traced the numbers "42-42-564" on the misty surface. Nothing happened for second; then the fog on the glass began swirling faster and faster until a large vortex appeared in the frame of the mirror. Shinigami stepped back.

"It's all yours, Soul-kun."

Soul approached the mirror cautiously. "How will I get back?" he asked.

"The portal should remain open for you," replied Stein. "Nobody else will be able to see it, unless Shinigami-sama allows them to."

Dubious, Soul stood at the very edge of the vortex. Then he took a deep breath and walked into the mirror.

He felt weightless as he felt himself being pulled toward the center of the portal, then he heard a loud _pop!_ and he fell flat on his face in the middle of a sandy bazaar.

He looked around his surroundings and his heart sank. There were street vendors and people _everywhere. _He'dnever find what he was looking for. Disheartened, Soul got up to his feet and brushed the dust off of his pants. He checked behind him to see if the portal was still there – it was – and he pushed into the crowd.

Soul had no idea what he was doing. He just fought his way through and tried to keep his eyes open for his target. It didn't really help that people kept staring at him – he stood out from the rest of the crowd, what with his bright shock of silvery hair and gleaming red eyes. Eventually, he reached a large fountain and sat on the edge of it, observing his surroundings. Suddenly, he heard something very familiar. His head whipped around and his eyes landed on a booth next to the fountain.

_There._

Soul smiled to himself and walked over to his target.

* * *

Soul woke up on Christmas Eve feeling accomplished. He walked out of his room and into the bathroom, rubbing his hair. There, he found Maka brushing her teeth. She spit into the sink and looked up into the mirror to see his reflection.

"Hey. You look happy today."

"Yeah, why not? It's Christmas tomorrow, right?" He reached for his own toothbrush, which was much worn than hers, thanks to his jagged teeth.

"I heard it might snow tonight. Maybe we'll get a white Christmas," she said, and walked out the door.

Maka admitted it. She was slightly hurt that Soul hadn't gotten her anything for Christmas. It was hardly something to get worked up about, but she couldn't help but feel a little upset when she looked underneath their small tree and saw her one lone present for him wrapped up and sitting forlornly by itself.

_It's okay_, she thought. _I have everything I want. I don't need anything else._

But a part of her was still sad.

That night, after a meal that the two of them had cooked together, Maka got up from the dinner table, yawning. She looked out the window and pressed her face to the cold windowpane. The sky was a cloudy gray, and the moon was already laughing in the sky. She hoped it would snow – everything looked so clean and fresh in the sparkling blanket of pure white snow. She turned around to see Soul staring at her with a sad smile on his face.

"What?"

"Huh?" he asked, startled.

"You had a weird look on your face. You okay?"

"Oh…yeah," he said vaguely. "I'll do dishes tonight. You can go to bed if you want."

Maka was shocked by this sudden change of behavior. It usually took several Maka Chops to persuade Soul to do the dishes, and today wasn't even his day to do them.

"Well, if you're sure," she said uneasily. "'Night, Soul."

"'Night," he said, still with that wistful look on his face.

* * *

The next morning, on Christmas Day, both Soul and Maka got out of bed at the same time. They ran into each other in the hallway, and Maka took his hand, smiling.

"Merry Christmas! C'mon, I want to show you your present." She led him to their tree and handed him the small box.

"Go on, open it!" she insisted. Slowly, he untied the ribbon and tore off the neat wrapping paper, revealing a square box. He opened the lid. Inside laid a thin, sleek black headband.

"Your old one was getting too worn. It's starting to look like a rag," she explained. "Do you like it?" she asked anxiously.

"Yeah," he said, picking it up from the box and placing it on his head. He looked up at Maka. Was she – was she _blushing?_

"It looks cool," she said offhandedly.

Blair snuck around Soul and slunk up to Maka, pawing her leg. "Maka-chan, does this kitty get a present too?"

Maka smiled at the cat. "Of course! Wait right here," and she ran off to the kitchen, only to return a few minutes later with a large silver fish. "Merry Christmas, Blair!" and she handed the cat the fish.

Blair's eyes grew wide. "Nya!" she exclaimed and took the fish into her mouth before running out the window.

Then they were just by themselves. Maka looked awkwardly at Soul and hurriedly reached for the discarded wrapping paper and box.

"Uh, I'll just throw these away," she said and started to get up. He grabbed her wrist.

"Wait." Soul glanced at the clock on the wall anxiously. "She should be here any minute now..."

"Who should –"

They heard the front door open, and both turned around at the same time.

The newcomer was a woman, in her mid-30's. She had honey blonde hair, darker than Maka's, twisted above her hair in an elegant bun, and piercing blue eyes that scanned their small apartment. They landed on Maka, and she smiled.

Maka looked up at the women, her mouth open.

"Mama."

Then she ran forward and hugged her mother, tears streaming from her eyes. "I missed you so much!" she cried. Kami smiled, hugging her daughter tightly, and closed her eyes.

"I missed you too, honey. I love you, Maka. Merry Christmas."

Soul got up and stretched, leaning against the wall and observing the scene before him.

_Family._

The door opened again, and Spirit burst through it, wearing an absurd Santa outfit.

"MAKAAAA," he cried, running towards her with his arms outstretched. "Merry Christmas!" He caught sight of Maka and her mother and skidded to a halt, mouth agape.

"K-Kami –" he stuttered. Maka's mother turned around and froze when she saw Spirit. Her icy blue eyes narrowed and she glared at the man before her like he was something she'd find on the bottom of her shoe.

Soul knew what was coming next before it happened.

"KAMI CHOP!" Kami lifted her bag and slammed it onto the top of Spirit's head, where it made a pleasant _thunk._ Spirit gave a howl of pain and collapsed ungracefully on the floor in front of his wife and daughter, tears streaming from his eyes and a lovesick smile on his face.

During the confusion, nobody noticed Soul slip quietly out the door.

He chuckled softly to himself at the sight of Kami hitting Spirit over the head. It was how he'd been able to identify her at the bazaar in Pakistan.

_A young woman held up a silvery necklace. "This is perfect for her," she said with a smile on her face. She handed the street vendor a small pouch filled with coins. The man counted out the coins and shook his head at the woman._

"_Twenty more rupees," he said, holding out his hand._

_The woman frowned. "That's not what the sign says," she pointed out. The man just leered at her and shook his hand insistently in front of her face. The scowl on her face darkened, and her eyes looked like chips of ice. The man had a very bad feeling._

"_Kami CHOP!" she roared, and swung her purse violently at the man's head with frightening accuracy._

_Dazed, the man stumbled backwards. "Just take the necklace," he stammered and ran away, clutching the bag of coins._

_Over by the fountain near the booth, a surly teenager with bad posture who was giving off a rebellious air jerked around. His red eyes flashed and landed on the woman. With a grim smile, he rubbed his own head ruefully for some reason and slouched over to the woman with hands in his pockets._

Soul found himself wandering through the wooded park where they'd cut down their tree. It had begun to snow softly, a thin powder of white dusting the trees and the ground, and he was freezing his ass off. He really wished that he'd brought a jacket – the shirt he was wearing was the one he'd worn to bed last night. He didn't even know why he'd left the apartment, really. He just needed some time to think.

It wasn't that he was jealous of Maka and her mother. But he found himself almost missing his own family. Much as he hated to admit it, Wes had always been kind to him, and Soul had looked up to him more than anyone else in the world. But their parents had always made Soul aware of the fact that Wes was the more talented of the two. They tried to love the two brothers equally, they really did, he knew that and he appreciated it, but they always spent their time focusing on his older brother.

He'd grown up in Wes' shadow, like a withering plant trying to grab some warmth from the sunlight. And his brother only made it worse by trying to persuade their parents to pay more attention to Soul. He didn't want to be pitied by anyone, least of all his idol. Everything he did was based on surpassing his older brother, even though he knew in the back of his mind that it was impossible.

He was exuberant the day he first changed his arm into a scythe, so relieved that he could finally break free from his cage and run away.

But now, looking at Maka and Kami and even Spirit, he realized how much he'd missed out on, what he could've had if he'd maybe been born into a different family.

And it wasn't just that, the reason for his melancholy. He liked Maka a lot, more than he wanted to admit. He'd felt almost lonely when he watched her run over to hug her mother, her eyes beginning to overflow with tears. He was the one that had been by her side for years now, after all. It was petty, he knew, and it wasn't like he was jealous or anything. The way her eyes had lit up and the huge smile on her face had made his entire adventure to find Kami completely worthwhile.

"Soul! Hey, Soul!" He turned around to see Maka running towards him, panting. She stopped in front of him and bent over with her hands on her knees, trying to get her breathing in check. When she could speak normally, she straightened up and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Mama told me everything." Then she tackled him, sending him stumbling backwards. "Thank you so much," she said weakly. "I haven't seen her in _years_._"_

"It's cool," he said, patting her on the back. "I'm glad you're happy."

Maka wiped her eyes and took him by the arm. "Let's go back, you must be freezing." Obligingly, he followed her, but she stopped abruptly and turned around. She hesitated. "Don't go away again, all right? Because I haven't seen her in so long that it's kind of awkward without you there next to me."

He smiled inwardly to himself. "Sure thing."

She studied him for a second, her face pink for some reason. "You know, that headband's only _half_ of your Christmas present."

"Yeah? What's the other half?"

She reached up on her tiptoes and planted a light, butterfly-kiss on his cheek.

He looked down at her, feeling warm despite the snow falling around them. Then he bent down to kiss her again, but this time on the lips.

"Merry Christmas, Maka."

_~end~_

**A/N: **For those of you who are wondering why Kami was in Pakistan of all places, I think I saw somewhere that the word _shujaat _written on the card to Maka from Kami was in Urdu or another Pakistani language…or that could just be my brain making up stuff.

~ Paper


End file.
